Overloaded daily calendars, frustrating adjournments and cases that drag on for years: All combine to take emotional and financial tolls on plaintiffs and respondents alike in Family Court in Staten Island's St. George community.

The overcrowded court on Richmond Terrace has wide-ranging powers that can profoundly change the lives of adults and children whose cases come before the bench. There are no juries: The court's judges and support magistrates make the decisions.

At its best, the court affords a safe haven for the protection of battered women and neglected and abused children. Its two judges -- Terrence J. McElrath and Catherine M. DiDomenico -- are empowered to issue orders of protection. They also preside over complex child-protective proceedings that can ultimately remove children under 18 years old from natural parents' homes and put them into the foster-care system.

At its worst, the court becomes the legal venue for vituperative, last-stand battles between estranged parents over child custody, support and visitation rights.

The court's judges work long hours.

"I've been here since 7:30 this morning," Judge McElrath said in his courtroom at 5:30 p.m. one day last month.

He was hearing yet another of the line of nonstop cases on his calendar that day. 
LIKE A NIGHTMARE'

"What did I get? Gray hair, upset stomachs and $12,000 in legal bills," said Lily, a divorced mom with a daughter under 8 years old.

She lives on a tight budget, supporting herself and her child with a patchwork of part-time jobs. She forfeits desperately needed income every time she goes to Family Court to complain about how her affluent ex-husband is in arrears on support payments that make or break her monthly budget, she told the Advance.

"He plays games with me," she said.

She has been in Family Court five times to collect $1,300 that she said her ex owes her since earlier this year for out-of-pocket child-care and medical expenses.

Sandra, who has a good job with a city-government agency, had her first contact with Family Court in August 2006, when the father of her only daughter, then 10 years old, filed a custody petition. She responded with a counter petition. The case went through twists and turns.

"It was treacherous, like a nightmare," she said. "It didn't have to go this far."

She told the Advance that she argued to the court that the father was unfit as a custodial parent because he tested positive for drug use.

"I lost my house, my savings; it's been dragging on for over two years. You have no idea of the spins on this case," said Robert, who has been in Family Court more than 10 times in an ongoing custody battle over his young child.

Before that, "I was never in court in my life. I've gone through five lawyers. I ran out of money. Right now, I cannot afford a lawyer. In this system, if a man stands up for his kid, he's labeled a troublemaker."

The experience is made worse because the court is "overbooked and overworked," he added.

SHACK IN THE BACK'

At 10 a.m. on a mid-November morning, the small waiting room at the Family Court's "annex" was already packed with over 45 people. As more women and men were admitted through the metal detector, they were forced to wait in a tiny, cramped corridor.

"Look at this -- it's standing room only," said one man, shaking his head in disgust.

This inhospitable, lonely outpost -- down a pathway to the right of the main court building -- is where mothers and fathers appear before two support magistrates for child support and visitation battles, and paternity cases. Uniformed court officers refer to it as "the shack in the back."

Signs posted outside the one-story prefabricated building read: "Petitioners and respondents only -- all others please wait in the main building lobby."

The space inside is so tight that family and friends are excluded when cases are heard and decisions handed down. Reporters, for the same reason, are not permitted access.

"So many women get chewed up and spit out here," said Lorraine, the mother of three children who has worked at a major corporation for over 20 years.

She told the Advance that her ex-husband dragged her through Family Court for 14 years, costing her $36,000 in lawyers' fees. He initiated five child abuse/neglect cases against her and "made my life miserable." She successfully fought every one of them, and is proud that two of her children are now in college.

The Family Court calculated that her ex owes her $65,000 in child-support arrears, according to Lorraine. But he recently petitioned the court for child support from her for their youngest child, who is still a minor. She was in the "annex" to challenge the weekly court-ordered garnishment of her salary, she said. Sick of legal bills, she was fighting it without an attorney.

"There are so many women with a story like mine, or a story worse than mine," she said.

ALL-DAY WAITS

"Try to work things out on your own if you can -- the last thing you need is to come here," said one father who drove three hours from Pennsylvania for yet another hearing at the court.

He is seeking permanent legal custody of his daughter, who is now living in foster care in the city. The girl's mother, who lives on the Island, told the Advance that she is not contesting custody.

Last month, both dad and mom had been sitting on the long wooden benches in the court's crowded second-floor waiting room since 9 a.m., they told a reporter. The case was finally called at 5:10 p.m., and the proceeding ended before 5:30, with nothing accomplished except an adjournment.

Why?

The lawyer representing the Administration for Children's Services (ACS), the city's child-welfare agency, had neglected to secure one document that was needed for the case to proceed. A reporter was in the courtroom when the judge verbally dressed-down the attorney for his apparent incompetence.

The mom was particularly upset about her day-long wait. She works for $8.50 an hour as a home-health aide and "lost a full day's wages for nothing," she said.

IT'S THE PITS'

The overcrowded court calendar also consumes the time of caseworkers and supervisors from the city's ACS, who sit in the waiting room with nothing to do until their child neglect/abuse cases are called.

"It's the pits, sitting here all day," said one ACS caseworker, who said he has worked at the agency for nine years. "The population on Staten Island has grown, but it's still only two judges for a high volume of cases. How can you adequately service so many people?"

Another caseworker told the Advance that she arrived at the court at 10 a.m. By 3:10 p.m., her assigned case had still not been called.

"Sometimes I wait here all day for just one case," she said.

In a separate interview, a caseworker from a non-profit foster-care organization agreed.

"I was here at 9 a.m. and it's now 5 p.m. I never wait this long in Brooklyn [Family Court]. If they say 9 a.m., I'm out of there by noon," she said.

INFORMATION SHEET

The Family Court's Information Sheet about filing for orders of protection warns that "the process may take longer than you would like. It could take a day to file a petition and request a temporary order of protection. Depending on the time you arrive at court, you may see a judge after 5 p.m. or may have to come back the next day."

One late afternoon last month, a young woman entered the courtroom alone after her name was called. Her eyes were welling up with tears and a court officer quickly handed her a box of tissues.

She told the judge in a shaky voice that at 7 o'clock the previous night her husband hit her in the face, on her legs and on other parts of her body, and threatened her life.

"He snaps," she said.

She explained that she lodged a complaint at the local police precinct, where she was told to petition Family Court for a temporary order of protection.

Under questioning from the judge, the woman testified that she was afraid that she could be seriously hurt if it happened again. The judge issued the protection order and an order of exclusion, which required her husband to leave the home.

The judge handled the case with no-nonsense dispatch, but also took the time to explain the process, patiently answering the woman's questions. He advised her to bring the temporary order to the local precinct, where officers would assist and "ensure" that her husband left the house -- if he was there. If he resisted, he could be arrested, the judge said.

The judge put the case on the calendar for 9:15 a.m. the next day, explaining that the woman and her husband both had to appear, and that her husband had the right to respond to her allegations at that time.

LEGAL FORMS

For men and women who do not meet the financial test to obtain the services of court-appointed attorneys, legal expenses can climb, especially if one side is determined to use every option available and submit motion after motion.

For child-support cases, there are over 50 Family Court forms. These include: Petitions and summonses; temporary orders of support and referral to a support magistrate; financial-disclosure affidavits; petitions for violations of support orders, and applications for income execution to enforce orders of support.

There are 22 forms for paternity cases, including court orders that require genetic-marker testing of the alleged father, the mother and the child.

Child protective proceedings have 40 legal forms, ranging from orders directing medical examinations in suspected cases of abuse or neglect, to applications for return of a child temporarily removed from home, to summonses and warrants of arrest in child-abuse cases.

"The lawyers seem to know how a case will play out even before you start," said Robert, the divorced dad in the custody battle. "Once you run out of money, they tell you to settle."

"Everyone has a breaking point," said Lily, as tears streamed down her cheeks. "Since my divorce four years ago, I've spent $12,000 in legal fees and I just can't afford it any more."

She's going it alone now, representing herself as she continues to navigate through the Family Court in search of justice.

"I'm not giving up," she said.

Editor's note: All litigants interviewed for this story requested anonymity because their cases are ongoing in Family Court or for reasons of personal privacy. Some of them showed original court documents to a reporter to provide independent verification of their assertions. Child-welfare caseworkers from the city's ACS who are quoted declined to give their names. In separate interviews, all of them told a reporter that they are not allowed to speak on the record to the press).